


one

by cbstrike



Series: type for permanence [3]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, Feelings, First Time, Introspection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 03:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30099930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbstrike/pseuds/cbstrike
Summary: He longed for sleep. Rest. Home that’s detached from his bloody office. Longed to be able to give her a day off, to lay down near dead of exhaustion in a shared bed and hold her, or be held by her, to have again in his life some intimacy.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: type for permanence [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129028
Comments: 14
Kudos: 64





	one

The way it started took him by surprise, if you could believe it. At the very worst time, too. Right smack dab a workweek so punishing, even he was longing for a good, long vacation. Or a change of profession, even.

She had been kipping on his bed. Fully clothed. Middle of the day. Stealing a few hours sleep before her next surveillance shift.

He was so knackered himself, he couldn’t even muster the energy to take in the fact that she was in his bed. Although the situation didn’t look much different from the countless times he’s seen her fall asleep on long journeys.

She still had a boot on, her foot dangling at the edge of his mattress. And he felt something clench inside of him. At first he thought it might be guilt; the big boss working his junior partner so much to the bone, she doesn’t even have time to take off her boot for a nap. But as he examined it, sighing deeply and brought low by exhaustion, he considered that what he was feeling might be longing.

He longed for sleep. Rest. Home that’s detached from his bloody office. Longed to be able to give her a day off, to lay down near dead of exhaustion in a shared bed and hold her, or be held by her, to have again in his life some intimacy.

He gently bent to pull the boot off her socked foot. That, at least, he could do for her. And even the energy he reserved to keep his guard up, to protect himself—and her—from feelings he kept reigned in, had been drained out of him.

He too laid on his bed next to her. Fully clothed, hands kept to his chest, imagining some parallel universe where he had energy, had two legs, had her.

He woke up with a jolt, feeling her face burrow itself in the crook of his neck. Her arms were pressed against her like she was chilly, snuggling next to him for warmth. And he wanted to drape something warm over her. A blanket from his drawers, but he didn’t want to move. Not when this is the closest they’ve ever been, not when he’s far too vulnerable to resist basking in the way her warm breath felt against the skin of his neck.

She kissed him. A smack on the mouth. Eyes still closed, as though still fast asleep and dreaming. She nearly missed his lips, landing on the edge that he just had the instinct to pucker and return. And they fell truly asleep like that. Snuggled together. Fully clothed. Their hands kept to themselves.

When he woke up, the sky was a shade of dark blue that could be early night or pre-dawn. And he hadn’t moved. Not his hands. Not his body. And she hadn’t moved, still snuggled against him in a bit of a bend. It took him a moment to realise that he just had a great sleep. The sort that might’ve been long, or short, but somehow felt just right.

That’s when he shifted, moving to turn his body to face her, eyes watching her face as she fluttered so slowly awake. And curiously, she looked at him with a face of mild surprise, but only shifted herself further against him, in his arms this time. And he wrapped his arms around her and thought how good it is, how easy, slipping into this as seamlessly as one would slip in the night from work to life.

Then they kissed. Who moved first, he couldn’t be sure. Might’ve been him. Probably him. It was slow, and long, and deep. Sonorous against the dark room. He had imagined it to feel overpowering. Intense. Years of compatibility, and _like_ , and _want_ , culminating in the hungry crashing of mouths.

But this wasn’t like that at all. This was feeling as though he had been away, or she had been away and now finally, finally, home.

He has experienced beautiful things in his life, and thought this is certainly one of them.

When they parted she only burrowed her face against his neck again, and he kept his arms wrapped around her, as though this is how they always are. Like being apart was the exception, and this embrace was the rule.

The first thing she tells him, muffled a little with her face still against his neck, “I’m hungry.”

He grinned. Big. Knowing he would always remember that’s the very first thing she said in this new state they slipped into.

“Alright, let’s eat.” he says, disentangling from her and pulling himself off the bed, bouncing with renewed energy he hasn’t felt in years. He held out a hand to her, and when she was upright with him, he put his thick arm over her shoulder, and she put her arms around his back, and they stepped out into London.

It was only 8 PM. And their bustling local looked particularly bright and beautiful that night. He bought drinks and food, talked nonsense and laughed plenty, buoyed with other types of joy coursing inside them.

He felt light. Young. And he never realised the weight of loneliness and unhappiness that he had been carrying for so long until she took these things off his back and laid them at her feet.

They retired back to his bedroom, their easy banter giving way to something deeper and more profound. Slowly peeling off layers until they were both laid bare to the other.

It was something else, her every touch and kiss. How her delicate fingers traced his cheek. The sensual undulation of her body beneath his. The single tear that fell from her eye at the end, overwhelmed past carnal pleasure into something he too felt and considered miraculous.

He often wondered why his life had to be hard, and rough, and heartbreaking but now he finally understood: all of it, all of it—was leading him to her.


End file.
